The Torn Mask
by Miss Pontmercy
Summary: "That's him! That's Jean Valjean!" After years of hiding, Valjean's worst fear is confirmed: he has been discovered.
1. Jean Valjean!

**Another AU... I don't know how I got this idea, or why I would choose to put Valjean through this. But I hope you enjoy this new series.**

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One evening shortly before Christmas in 1832, Marius, Cosette, Monsieur Fauchelevent, and Monsieur Gillenormond went out to once all four of them were having a good, relaxed time. Monsieur Fauchelevent had not wanted to go- when Grandfather invited him out, he stiffened, worrying about the public setting and exposure. But he remembered Javert's death and, saying a prayer for the man's soul, decided it was safe.

He had also shared something of a bond with his soon-to-be son-in-law when he discovered that neither of them had wanted to go out.

"I'm just fine here, eating in the dining room like usual," Marius had claimed. He seemed to be clutching at straws once Cosette had agreed with Grandfather. The two of them wanted a change of pace, and the force of Cosette was something neither Marius nor Valjean could ignore. Still, it was comforting to know that there was at least one person nearby who did not need excitement or a dinner out to be happy. Like Valjean himself, Marius did not need to vary from the routine to enjoy his life. In fact, they both seemed to be comforted by the familiar.

The snow was swirling outside the window of the restaurant, catching hte light of the streetlamps and illuminated the passersby. For once, despite the dark of the street and the brightness of the restaurant, it was easy to see the street. Marius, facing the window and sitting opposite Cosette and her father, gazed over their shoulders and saw an inspector, some civilians, and a couple who had just exited the restaurant.

Shortly after they had received their food, Grandfather asked for the check, standing up to pay. They were by no means finished eating, but he claimed to be tired.

"I'm ninety-two," he grumbled. "And done eating. Don't let me rush you, but I want to go home."

Marius got up with his grandfather, and walked him out of the restaurant so he wouldn't slip on the streets, slick with freshly fallen snow. He helped him into the fiacre, and then bid him goodnight. The man would doubtlessly be asleep when he returned home, even if it merely in another hour. Turning to go back inside, Marius caught side of several police officers, who had joined the inspector from earlier. They were looking in the window of the restaurant. Marius bowed his head, wondering what those men were here for. But he went back inside, taking off his hat and wiping the snow from his shoulders.

About twenty minutes later when they were done eating, Marius stood up and held Cosette's coat open for her. He looked outside once more, and stiffened when he saw the police were looking inside the restaurant- right at _them!_He swallowed and stood up straight, looking away and pretending not to have seen them, meanwhile his brain was working hard. Why were they staring at them? The only thing he could think of was... what if the doctor had sold the information, and told the police that he'd been a rebel? That he had fought last summer in the riots? That had to be it- what else could it be?

Treason, he'd be imprisoned for treason, and possibly put to death.

Oh God... and they would arrest him, right here, right in front of Cosette and her father. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. He was a lawyer, and he knew plenty of other lawyers. His grandfather could help him, they would get this fixed. He would not be put to death! He _could _not be!

He stood up straight and walked beside Cosette and her father outside the restaurant, Cosette with her arm in her father's.

"That's him," a policeman said.

Marius closed his eyes, wishing he could rewind time and never have gone out tonight... but how had they known he would be going out to this restaurant anyway?

"Cosette, go with Marius." Marius heard Cosette's father say. His voice was calm, but very serious.

"Papa?" she asked. Marius opened his eyes and saw the police walking over to the three of them.

"Cosette, please do as I say. Go with Marius." Marius looked at Monsieur Fauchelevent's eyes, and they were resigned and calm, exactly the opposite of Cosette's, which were frantic and panicked.

She took a step away from her father obediantly, but a small enough one to make it clear she was not ready to go anywhere.

"Papa!"

"Monsieur Pontmercy, please take my daughter home." His voice was rehearsed, as though he'd been planning for this day for many years and it had come.

"Monsieur, I don't think-"

But Marius was interrupted when the police reached them. Instead of talking to Marius, like he'd thought, they ignored him entirely. Marius heard the familiar murmurings- the things police offers said when they arrested someone. And they were speaking to Monsieur Fauchelevent. Marius was far away, his mind scraping over the past few months, wondering what could have happened then, wondering if he'd missed something, thinking of small gestures and facial expressions, looking for clues. Cosette cried out, bringing him back to the present- her hands were pressed over her mouth, her eyes filled with tears. The police had her father pressed against the wall, and were putting him in handcuffs.

"I demand to know why you are arresting this man!" Marius thundered.

"Jean Valjean is being arrested for..." The police officer began listing a thread of crimes. Theft. Broken parole. Forgery. Impersonating a public official. Assault.

Murder.

His heart dropped so far, he thought it had hit the ground. Cosette was sobbing.

"It's not true!" she screamed.

"You must have the wrong man. Monsieur?" Marius asked, looking at Cosette's father. The man said nothing. Marius' insides turned cold.

"Where is your proof?" he demanded. "And _you have the wrong man! _This is not 'Jean Valjean!'"

"If you come to court, we can discuss this there. Until then-" They heaved Monsieur Fauchelevent from the side of the building where he'd been pressed, and began directing him into the police carriage.

Cosette ran after them, throwing her arms around her father, sobbing hysterically.

"No," she yelled when they ordered her to let go, and held on tighter to him. "No! He would never do anything like that!" she cried, her voice thick and filled with the sounds of her tears, her breath coming in spurts, her face red and wet. "You don't understand."

Her father tried to edge away from her, to get her to let go before any of the officers forced her off him. But she clung to him in a vice grip, her cries shrill and filled with fear and sorrow.

"Control her," the an officer said coldly to Marius.

Marius unhooked Cosette's arms from her father's neck, and this time she relented, pressing herself against Marius' chest, not wanting to look as they loaded her father into the carriage.

"Where are you taking him? Mark my words, you will hear from us- you can't just take a man away-"

"The jail."

"The galleys?"

"Not yet. But soon," he leered. Cosette sobbed harder, remembering the men from the galley's she'd seen once- monsters. Her father was no monster!

"I'll be there," Marius promised Monsieur Fauchelevent. "Just keep quiet until then," he said, trying to sound like he knew what he was doing, despite his shaking hands and voice. "Don't say anything to anyone," Marius told him, remembering his lawyer's training briefly. "I'll be there shortly."

"Take her home first," Monsieur Fauchelevent said as they roughly shoved him into the car, cracking his head against the top of the door. He closed his eyes, his face white with shame and pain. Cosette was still not looking. She did not want to see her father this way. "Keep her safe. Don't worry about me until she's-"

They slammed the door then, silencing Monsieur Fauchelevent. A moment later, they were driving away, the horse's hooves clacking aginst the cobblestones menacingly, leaving Marius and Cosette standing in the snow, staring at the back of the carriage.

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**More coming soon! Thoughts?**


	2. Love is Fleeting

In Valjean's world, love was fleeting. He'd grown hard in the galleys, had known never to depend on anyone to help you. He watched Fantine shrivel and die in her hospital bed, because she had trusted someone too much. He knew not to rely on anyone.

Love was something someone wanted from someone else. Marius loved Cosette because he wanted a beautiful wife, who was perfect. Cosette loved Marius because he doted on her and could be the youthful, perfect husband. Of course, though love was fleeting, that did not describe his love for Cosette. That was different. It was more than love, it was devotion. It was untouchable, unconditional. It was similar to a love for the Lord. He would never revoke it.

But Valjean was well aware not to expect that from anyone else.

And though love was fleeting, it was the only thing he could think about as he was thrown into a cell, his cheek scraping the rough and damp floor. The clang of bars rang out, reminding him that he was once again, a prisoner. But had he ever ceased to be one? No. He had always been a prisoner. He had never been free, but he had had Cosette.

Tears filled his eyes as he thought of her sweet face. A face he would never see again.

Valjean looked about his surroundings, and saw the small cell. One of his roommates was a greasy skinny man, the other brutish and more animal than human. That was him. An animal.

How could Cosette love him? The same heart who adored birds and flowers could not love him, a wicked creature. The girl who opened her heart to no one but someone who she deemed a docile old man could not love the convict. The pure, good, white soul of Cosette could not love the innocent Marius Pontmercy and the black, abandoned Jean Valjean at the same time.

She may have been able to love Monsieur Fauchelevent. She may have been able to love her father. But he was neither of those things.

With a shudder, he realized that love is selfish, and love is fleeting. Not only Cosette's love for him, which would shrivel in fear once she knew the truth- or perhaps had already died, the moment the police shouted 'Jean Valjean!' But Monsieur Pontmercy... he wanted a perfect wife. Could he stand to care for Cosette now, knowing the truth?

Valjean shivered, and crawled into a corner of the cell, drawing up into himself like an animal in defense. And he waited.

* * *

"Cosette, I said _no!"_ Marius said, not letting go of her hand as she tried to get away from him. Her feet slid as she tried to run after the police carriage, the one with her father in it. Trying to tug her arm out of his grip, she thrashed so she could get away before the carriage vanished from view. She couldn't see properly, her tears rendering her blind, her feet slipping out from under her on the black ice.

She felt Marius' arms catch her around her waist before she hit the freezing stone street, and she began to sob. He helped her stand.

"I can't just _go home _and... and do nothing!" she demanded. "We have to do something, Marius! He can't... he can't go to jail! I saw men from the galleys once... they... they were terrible. He doesn't belong there!"

"I'm going to take you home, like I promised your father I would," he said sternly. "Then I will go to the jail."

She looked at him pleadingly. "Please, let me go too-"

"No."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"It's not _safe_ for you at a jail, for one. But I won't be going as a visitor- they won't let anyone visit a prisoner they just brought in, who's only recently arrested. I'm going as a lawyer."

"Oh," she said, her brow furrowed.

"I know he doesn't belong there," Marius told her, but to tell the truth, he was not positive. He did not like how... prepared Monsieur Fauchelevent had seemed, how calm he had remained. Almost as if he knew this was coming. But whatever the case, Marius knew this man's personality, and it was unlikely that he had committed all those crimes. He was too docile.

Inspector Javert's face flooded into Marius' mind, and he remembered the chilling shot he'd heard in the night. _Maybe..._

_No. _He wouldn't let himself believe anything just yet, not until he heard it from Monsieur Fauchelevent himself.

And he needed to do something to ease himself, and to ease Cosette.

"I promise I'll..." he stopped himself just before he promised to do something he could not guarantee. "Try. I promise I'll do everything in my power to- legally- get him out. I'm certain this entire affair is a misunderstanding. They are probably confusing him for another large man."

Cosette nodded, probably knowing Marius knew no more than she did, but willing to take his words as fact for the time being.

"Come," he said, and hailed a cab for them. The whole cabride to the apartment she shared with her father, Cosette was silent. It was obvious she was very thoughtful: her hands were wringing in her lap, and tears had not stopped falling. Her eyes were fixed intensely on her knees.

When they reached the apartment, neither had keys- Monsieur Fauchelevent had them in his pocket when he was arrested- and the porter had to identify Cosette before they were let inside.

Marius grew uneasy once they were alone in the apartment. He had planned to simply see her inside and then leave, but the quiet of the place made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They were very alone here, it was obvious. The neighborhood was desolate, and not protected. Unlike the house on the rue plumet, which had been safe and cozy, surrounded by nothing but its garden, this apartment was isolated in an uncomfortable way. There were people all around, just no people who cared to look after their neighbors in the least. The kind of people who would go years without knowing what their neighbors looked like.

_Perfect for a hideout,_ Marius thought, but shook the thought away.

"I'll be alright," Cosette said in a small voice. "Thank you for taking me home. Will you come back tomorrow to pick me up? I don't know that I have any money here for a fiacre, and I don't want to stay here alone all day."

Marius was once again thinking about something else. Monsieur Fauchelevent was accused of murder and theft and forgery, all incredibly huge offenses. Felonies. They doubtlessly had a warrant, and would search the apartment. Perhaps tonight. And Cosette would be here all alone. Well, alone except for that useless housekeeper of theirs.

"Cosette, I'd rather you didn't stay here all alone tonight. The police might come by to search the house," he informed her, very uncomfortable with the idea of the police coming here in the middle of the night. He neither trusted nor mistrusted the police, but the most innocent thing that could happen would be that she would be terrified. "Would you object to coming with me?"

She shook her head. "No. That's fine." After what had happened, she wasn't too keen on staying alone either. "But... if it's all a misunderstanding, why could they come by?" she asked, trying not to sound as scared as she felt.

Obviously she had failed. Marius came up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't be scared. Even if everything is cleared up, they still will likely search for evidence confirming his innocence. And either way, without your father here, and in this neighborhood, I'd feel better knowing you were somewhere safe."

She nodded, hoping what he was saying was going to turn out true.

"I'll go pack some things... can you leave a note for Toussaint? I don't want her to worry."

"Of course."

She went into her bedroom and began to put some clothes into a bag, while Marius wrote where Cosette would be. He added that Monsieur Fauchelevent had to go away unexpectedly, knowing it was a bad lie, but not knowing if he should tell the truth yet. On their way out, he left his address with the porter. If the police did come by, he didn't want it to look like either he or Cosette were fleeing. They had nothing to hide.

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**I want to publish this story fast, because I have so many ideas! However... you are still completely welcome to review every chapter... ;) Just check how many chapters there are, because I very well might update so frequently that you'll miss them unless you keep checking.**

**Happy reading!**


	3. Defense of Will

"Are you sure this is alright with your grandfather?" Cosette whispered as they entered the house. It was only ten o'clock, but the Gillenormond house was black. They'd fumbled around for a minute or two before Marius had found matches on the table beside the front door and lit a candle.

"It's my house too," he reasoned. "And you'll be living here in a few months anyway. Don't worry, you have a home here. But he adores you. He'll just be glad you've arrived early."

Cosette gave a small, quiet laugh. Realizing that this would indeed be her home in not too long. Maybe it was time to stop feeling like a guest every time she walked through the doorway.

He led her upstairs, and into what everyone in the house called the blue room. It was the smallest bedroom, and he chose it for thus- it was coziest, which would be good for her. It had been freezing outside, and on top of that she was scared. He put her bag down on the thick carpet and knelt on the hearth, preparing a fire to warm the room.

"When will you be back?" she asked fearfully.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't even know if they'll let me see him."

"Will you tell me what they say?"

"You should sleep," he said. "Don't wait up for me. I can tell you about it in the morning."

"We both know I won't be able to sleep," she argued.

"Try. But leave your lamps on if you can't sleep... I'll see the light under the door, and if you're awake I'll come talk to you. But I won't wake you up."

She nodded, knowing she would just stay up and leave her lights on.

He stood. "There are extra blankets in this chest here. Do you want me to wake Nicolette and tell her you're here, in case you need anything?"

Cosette shook her head. "I'll be fine."

"Alright- well you know where her rooms are anyway, just in case. Feel free to make yourself at home- help yourself to anything. There are extra matches in the dresser by the bed."

She smiled weakly. "Thank you. Be safe. Come home soon."

"I will," he said, and leaned in to kiss her forehead before leaving.

* * *

Valjean descended deeper and deeper with every second that passed. Remnants of the light of his life left him. The brief gift that he'd had, those years away from prison, had been nothing but a glimpse of the outside world. He was captured again.

It was surreal, to be back. To bookend those years of freedom with times in jail, made those years seem less than real. Like a dream, touched on either side with reality. Jail was reality. Police, hard blows to the middle of your back, bars, damp floors, grunting and keening, loss of dignity- those things were reality.

He was a number again, or would be within a matter of days. He would be on a chain gang, his ankle tied to the person next to him. What had been the point of evading Javert for all those years? Of fleeing after Chapmathieu? Of fearing the Thenardiers? Of using Fauchelevent's name? Nothing! If he were always to end up here, had there been any point whatsoever? No!

He saw her face every time he closed his eyes. Yes. There had been a point.

His consolation rested with Cosette. He had, in his time of freedom, given her life. Though it was a small good deed- could it even be called good, really? It was not penance for what he had done, no. But it had been something, and he knew that his time out of jail had not been worthless, for he had brought her out of the snake pit.

But she no longer loved him, it was obvious. She could not. After learning he was not her father, that she'd been lied to, that she'd rubbed shoulders with a convict for so many years, how could she?

And Monsieur Pontmercy... Valjean hoped he had enough kindness in his heart to give Cosette some final arrangements, before he relocated himself and his interests. A straight-backed, upright man like Monsieur Pontmercy, cold in his goodness, would not want to rub shoulders with him either. He would not want the daughter of a convict.

Valjean hated him for it. Valjean wished he'd never met Cosette, so that his existence could not have tainted her, so that Monsieur Pontmercy would still have his perfect wife, and then Cosette could be happy.

But none of those events had turned out the way he'd planned. He remained calm, remembering that the money he left Cosette was still in her name. She would have a safety net. She would not fall, like her mother.

* * *

The door to his cell creaked open, and Valjean felt a hand on his collar, hauling him upright.

"Someone to see you," they grumbled, and shoved him out of the cell, and through a hallway into a room.

Monsieur Pontmercy was there, white as a spectre.

"Monsieur!" he said, the word flying out of his mouth. He was talking nearly as much as Cosette. "What on earth happened back there? Are you alright? Are they hurting you? What is it you need- do you need money? Bail? Defense? I can defend you, my grandfather has friends, we can get you a pardon, because I am sure this is all falsehoods and misunderstandings. You! A common thief? That is not true, I tell you! I will tell anyone here! Why, Cosette's father, a thief-"

"Cosette," Valjean said, her name coming out of his dry throat. He had previously been transfixed on another word: monsieur. Pontmercy had addressed him as 'vous' and 'monsieur' this whole time, like usual. If he had lost respect in Marius' mind, it was not obvious from his way of speaking. At least not yet. But Cosette's name caught his attention. "Where is she?"

"She's at my grandfather's- I mean, my house," he said, his voice sounding nervous. "See, I thought the police were going to search your apartment, so I thought that would be best... she's likely asleep now. Or at least, I hope so."

"That was a good idea," Valjean said. "And what's going to happen to her tomorrow?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Marius asked.

"I mean where will she go after tomorrow?"

"Why, she'll stay. I don't see why she shouldn't. We'll get you out of this trouble, and she can move back in with you, or if you'd prefer, you both can move in a little earlier, and not renew your lease on the apartment for the new year-"

"Monsieur Pontmercy, what if I told you I was guilty?" Valjean cut through the boy's words. It was obvious he was innocent, naive, and needed to be told the truth.

"But... but you can't be!" Marius said, in disbelief. "Cosette's father... a..."

"A convict. A thief. Yes. And... no. I am not Cosette's father."

"Monsieur, I... I- no!" he started. "No, you can't be telling the truth!"

"But I am," he said. "It's terrible, isn't it? I am an ex-convict. I have spent nineteen years in the galleys."

Marius shivered noticeably. "But... you are Fauchelevent. They were talking of Jean Valjean-"

"Fauchelevent is a name, nothing more than a name. No more mine than it is Cosette's. I am Jean Valjean. I am a man who was let out of prison, but broke parole. I sought freedom, and in doing so, forever remained a prisoner."

"Cosette's mother is dead," Marius said, remembering with horror that 'murder' had been listed as one of this man's offenses. _No, no that can't be..._

_"_Consumption," he said simply.

Marius wanted to hear no more of this- whether Cosette kidnapped or not, he did not know. Whether or not he was a murderer, he didn't care. Not at this moment. He was exhausted and he wanted to go home and sleep and pretend that none of this ever happened. The sheer horror of having a man like this in his house, in his living room and dining with him and Cosette, was terrifying.

Marius stood.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said stiffly. "I need to think."

"Wait!" Valjean said. "Cosette... I need to know-"

"She told me to tell you she loves you," Marius said, as if regretting that he'd promised to deliver the message. "And that she is praying for you."

Marius' words caught him off guard. Cosette loved him still.

How could that be? Her heart was stronger than he thought. But of course, she still presumed him completely innocent, imprisoned falsely. The minute she knew he was actually guilty, her heart would turn away.

"Please... don't tell her any of this just yet. I will write her a letter tonight, will you deliver it for me? I'll just say... goodbye."

"Yes," Marius said. "I can do that."

"What will happen to her?" Valjean said under his breath. Marius heard.

"What do you mean, what will happen to her?" he shot. "I told you, she's at my house, asleep."

"Can you bear to share a name with someone who shared a name with a convict?"

"I don't see what your past," Marius said coldly, "has to do with her. If you have a problem with our marriage, you should have said so before we drew up all the deeds- because I'm marrying her in February, no matter what."

Valjean sighed, relief apparent from his every pore. "Thank you, Lord," he said, his eyes turned toward the Heavens.

Marius gave him a strange look. "And I won't tell my grandfather. I'm not an idiot. I didn't think it was this serious, and that he could simply get a pardon issued for you. I sense this is bigger than that. And if I feel he's going to dig his heels in... well he doesn't have to know. Cosette is safe. What did you think I was going to do?"

"What many others have done before," Valjean said cryptically.

"Well, I would appreciate some faith. I'm not going to turn her out because I found out something about her past," Marius said.

_I would appreciate some faith, too, _Valjean thought of saying, knowing that Marius' sentence could have applied to him, too. But alas- it did not matter. Cosette was cared for, she was safe. He did not have to worry.

"I underestimated you, Monsieur Pontmercy, and your character. I thought you loved her because she is perfect. Thank you for proving me wrong."

"I promised her I would do everything in my power to legally get you out of here," Marius said. "And I will. But it's not going to be as easy as I thought."

"Maybe you should just let me be. Maybe it's God's will that I'm meant to be here."

"I can't let it be. I promised her. And maybe it's God's will that I get you out- we can't claim to know His mind."

Valjean did not answer.

Marius looked angrily at the man again. How dare he just sit there in silence after springing such news upon him? But after fuming for a few minutes, Marius turned and left. He received a small file from the desk of the jail, that stated the charges against Cosette's 'father.' However, he was too sick to look at them.

* * *

He needed time to think of what to tell Cosette- he was not planning on lying to her, but springing all this information on her was not a good idea. Especially when he had a very befuddled, mixed idea of what was and wasn't true. And God knows he didn't want to be the one to tell her that she was not really related to the man she had so long called father.

Though he hoped her lights would be off, he was not surprised to see they weren't. He opened her door.

"Cosette?" he whispered. Then he saw she was asleep in the chair by the window, the curtains askew. She'd been watching for him to come home no doubt. Her rosary was in her hands. He softened then, and felt two strong emotions at once. One, was protectiveness. This man had stood in place of her father for years, committing crimes, hurting people, miraculously not hurting her. He would see to it that Jean Valjean never hurt her. He would not have the chance. But he felt another wave of emotion: a rising passion to defend her will at all costs. She could not defend her father's name and bring him home, but he could. Out of love and duty for her, he felt the overwhelming call to do as she wished, to act as her savior and her angel and her protector, and to stand in for her and keep her from harm. To bring her father home.

He had to be her voice in court, her voice in society, where no one else would listen to her. He was hit with hatred, knowing that she could not stand and talk and defend herself. He hated that people would oppress her. So he would represent her.

He would represent her father in court.

After standing over her for so long, he finally shook his head and took himself out of his reverie. He carefully unwound the rosary from her fingers and set it aside, and then picked her up very gently, trying not to wake her. With his arms around her, he carried her to her bed and set her down, tucking the blankets around her before blowing out the candles.

In her dreams, Cosette was transported of a place of fear and mistrust, to a place of safety. She felt the smile of God upon her.

As Marius walked back to his bedroom, he tried to imagine the magnitude of the epiphany he'd had.

Before he went to sleep, he could see himself defending Monsieur Fauchelevent, that is to say, Jean Valjean. The guilty one. But Marius knew in his heart, very deep down, that this man was not evil.

But that did not mean he was not guilty.

No matter what, Cosette loved him. Marius felt a chill pierce his heart, knowing what the worst would be. If he defended Cosette's father in court, he had to win. Losing the case... how could Cosette forgive him?

Losing the case would mean he would lose her.


	4. The Best Liar in the World

When Cosette awoke the next day, she didn't know what to do. She sat up in the unfamiliar- but comfortable- bed, and felt extremely awkward. She'd never been a guest in someone's house for any extended period of time before, and had no idea how to go about it.

_But am I really a guest?_ She had no idea.

She didn't remember falling asleep the night before, but she was unsurprised. She'd been exhausted.

She found a clock and it was eight-thirty. Marius must have gotten back quite late- he didn't leave until after ten-thirty, and she'd been asleep when he got back. He could still be asleep. Cosette bit her lip- what if he hadn't had a chance to tell grandfather and everyone that she was there? She didn't want to just waltz downstairs and have Marius' Aunt and Grandfather look at her in surprise, and then have to sit with them and eat breakfast for the next half-hour without Marius. Besides, she had no idea what to tell them about her father. She cringed at the idea of having them know what happened, even if it had been a mistake. But they seemed rather judgmental, and Cosette would stand by her father no matter what. She did not want an argument.

But what if they were all waiting for her? She didn't know if they were the kind of family who always dined together, including breakfast. She and her father almost always ate together, but that was only because they had the same sleeping habits. They both woke early, so they ate breakfast together. On the occasional day she'd sleep late- those days were very common when she had been with Marius in the garden- he'd eaten alone and had Toussaint make something for her. But was everyone downstairs, aware that she was still upstairs, dawdling, hungry and waiting for her?

She cringed, really not wanting to go downstairs. But she got out of bed and began dressing. After she'd dressed and was in the midst of brushing her hair, someone knocked at the door. She went over and opened it. It was Nicolette.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle," she said cheerily. "I came to inquire if you'd like to join the family for breakfast."

"Oh!" Cosette said, relieved that she'd gotten some help. "I would. I'll be down in a moment, after I put my hair up. Thank you for coming to get me. Oh- do you know whether Marius has told his grandfather I'm here...?"

"Monsieur Pontmercy has informed his family. Monsieur Gillenormond is pleased that you are staying here."

Cosette smiled. "I'll be right down. Thank you."

She found her combs and fastened her hair back, and then went downstairs. Grandfather looked unsurprised to see her. In fact, everyone greeted her rather happily and seemed to suspect nothing. Only Marius had something of a shadow in his eyes, knowing the truth. She wondered what had happened at the jail the night before.

After breakfast, she looked meaningfully at Marius, who took her into the living room.

"It's not over yet," he said simply. "There's a lot more to this case that guilt or innocence. To get him out, we're going to need to _prove _his innocence, rather than just claim it. Which means there will be a trial."

"Oh," Cosette said, and buried her face in her hands. Yesterday, her life had been simple- she'd had little more to worry about than what dress would look better on her. But today?

Her stomach turned over guiltily. She barely had a right to be upset, compared to how horrible her father must be feeling.

"Is he alright? Is he safe? Do you think they're feeding him well? Is he warm enough?"

Marius grimaced. It was likely that his well-being was severely below even Cosette's worst fears. "I can try to see if they'll let us bring him something," he sidestepped the question.

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Cosette said, and promptly left to pack some things.

* * *

An hour later, Marius was at the jail again. He was greeted by the news that his future father-in-law was being held without bail.

He just politely smiled and gave the police no reaction. Nothing to use against him. He was allowed back into the room he'd talked to Valjean in before.

He had stayed up almost the entire night before thinking over his choices, and this was the decision he came up with.

"Jean Valjean," Marius said. "Here's what has to happen, for me to get you out of jail. I will be your lawyer. But to do that effectively, I can't let any personal feelings get in the way, and neither can you. We have to trust each other, and you have to tell me the truth. No lies, of omission or otherwise. Do you understand?"

Valjean didn't say anything.

"I'm trying to help you!" Marius said angrily. How could this man be so ungrateful?

"I don't want to be helped. I want you to promise to take care of Cosette. What's happened to me is done. I have lived my life."

"Fine. If you don't want help, then you won't get any. But keep in mind, no one wants to let you rot in here, like a member of some chain gang. And it's going to get a lot worse. You won't be here for long. In a few weeks, you'll be in the galleys, which will make this place look like Versailles."

"I am no stranger," Valjean said calmly.

Marius slammed his fist against the table between them. "Don't you _want_ help?" Marius exclaimed. "Every man wants _something._ What do you _want?"_

"I want Cosette to be happy," he said.

"You can't be that selfless. That can't be the only thing you want," Marius baited him, sensing he was nearer. "Don't you want something for your_self?"_

"I've never been a man who needed a lot. I do not need material pleasures, I never needed money or fancy things. I had her, and I was happy."

"There. That's it," Marius said, understanding. "You want to see her."

Valjean closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time, but then Marius could see his shoulders shaking. "Monsieur Pontmercy, you are a good man. I know it. I know you will take care of my daughter, and make her happy... but you must understand. I never wanted anything. For my nine years with her, I never did anything for myself, because I never wanted anything. As long as she was with me, I was happy. She was all I had, all I ever wanted. She was my happiness, the light in my life, the warmth. Even now, I will be fine with the jail, as long as I knew she was happy. And..."

He could barely let out this last part, afraid it was selfish.

"And as long as I could see her sometimes. To hear her voice, at least, and see her smile... she's all I have. I just want to see her- one a week, even... less... Just to know that she's there, and that I'll see her again. That's all it would take to keep me alive."

He sat back, having admitted what he truly needed. Marius stared at this man in amazement.

"Well I'm afraid that's impossible," he said curtly.

Valjean snapped his eyes open, shocked by this young man's cruelty. But in a minute, even that subsided. Of course he couldn't see Cosette. A man like him, talking to a young woman like her, as if they were _family?_ They were not family. She did not belong within miles of him.

"I understand," he resigned.

"No, you don't," Marius said, his voice softening. He leaned in towards Valjean, and put his hands on the table. "You cannot see Cosette while locked up. Like I said, in a week or so you'll be transferred to the galleys. You cannot expect me to bring Cosette to the galleys. I will not do that."

_That_ was his reasoning? Valjean's heart thawed. Why, of course the boy was right. Man. Whatever Monsieur Pontmercy was, he was right. Cosette did not belong there, among rapists and murderers and thieves.

"She'll be terrified, and if one of us turns our back- I can't even think of it," Marius shuddered, and Valjean did too. "Those men are animals, and the least they could do to her would be yell obscenities she doesn't even understand. But you're not that kind of man. You don't belong there.

"You still haven't told me what you did. I have no idea how guilty or how innocent you are, and keep in mind that I'm not promising anything. But I promised Cosette I would try to get you out, and I will. If you'll let me defend you in court, to act as your representation, I believe I can help you... but only if you trust me. This is for you, but it's also for her, you see? She wants you out- if you just sat here and didn't fight, you'd be giving up, and you'd hurt her more than if you really had committed those crimes.

"And if you fight, you might be able to see her again. She could come to the trial," Marius said.

"Are you coercing me?" Valjean said.

"Yes," Marius admitted. "If you promise to trust me, or at least try, then I'll promise to help you. And then, if I can at least get you to trial, you can see her again. I'm asking for you to try and fight for your own freedom, and in return, you get what you want."

"I just have to let you defend me?"

"If you're as innocent as Cosette believes, then it should be no problem. And then you can live with us, just like we'd planned."

"Do you trust me?" Valjean asked. "I'm supposed to trust you with my happiness, my freedom... but what do you think?"

"You've yet to tell me anything helpful to persuade me one way or the other. But I'm inclined to think you're good."

"And why is that?"

"Cosette lived with you for nine years. For half her life, you were teaching her morals and raising her. You are either the very best liar in the world," Marius said, "Or a good man. For anything less than either of those things could not have existed beside _her. _Which is it?"

Valjean did not answer.

"Fine," Marius snapped. "We'll get to that part later. But let's begin," he opened the file. "Let's go through your charges together, shall we?"

* * *

Once Marius left, Cosette took herself upstairs and with the help of Nicolette, ran herself a bath. She hated feeling useless, and this was precisely how she felt at the moment. She couldn't bring her father home. Marius had said she could help once it came time for the trial- her accounts of life growing up with her father would help prove his innocence- but Marius had not started researching yet. And she couldn't go to the jail, because Marius would not take her.

Though she huffed and complained, she was secretly glad. She did not want to see her father bound in chains, wearing a prisoner's uniform and a number, just like the brutish men she'd seen passing once. She would not be able to bear the image.

So she sought refuge. Sleep was the best thing, but that was not an option. Marius made her feel better when he was near, but he was out. She could not stand to sit with grandfather or Aunt Gillenormond and pretend nothing was wrong, so she went by herself.

She wanted to talk to a priest, and made a note to herself to ask Marius to take her to church later. _Things would be much easier if people would let me out on my own,_ she complained. But she immediately revoked it- she had no desire to be out alone. The lack of organization to the city wildness made her feel frightened, and she did not have enough experience with it to face it alone.

She felt the hot water all around her, and knew it had been the right choice. It was comforting. The weight of the water surrounded her, and the soft scent of lavender from the bath salts made her drowsy, but in a thoughtless and calm way. Her hands drifted atop the glassy surface of the water, pretending it was thick and hard and protective, not liquid. She pretended she was encased in some kind of armor, not naked and exposed.

But as quickly as the comfort came, she suddenly felt incredibly threatened. She felt lonely and scared, and desired company. Her heart picked up speed, and her mind flashed over the sick memories of the previous evening.

'Jean Valjean!'

She shook her head, but could not rid it of the images of the police officers dolling out blows onto her father's back. She felt her fingers, freezing again, as they had been the night before, the ice beneath her feet, the sharp, icy shards blowing in the biting wind. She heard her own yells, drowned out by the wind. She heard the quiet of the apartment she used to share with her father, with nothing but the ticking of the clock, foreboding. A reminder that he was not there to protect her anymore.

She wanted to scream. Instead, she put her head under the water, feeling the warm bathwater press into her ears, silencing everything for a moment. She stayed under until her lungs burned, until she remembered that she was still alive.

Hurriedly, she washed her hair, got out of the bath and dried off, dressing again and running downstairs. After searching several empty rooms for any inhabitant, any at all, she found and talked to Nicolette and the cook mindlessly, finding that pretending nothing was wrong was actually the best comfort.


	5. Merry Christmas, Papa

Jean Valjean was, for an hour, a man again. He was given his clean, pressed clothes and called Monsieur. The familiar stiff white Quaker cotton felt odd against his skin. It was welcome, compared to the dirty and thin fabrics provided by the prison, but it also reminded him of the man he was no longer. But more important than any of those things was what happened when he reached the courthouse on the day of his hearing, and was ushered into a waiting room.

Monsieur Pontmercy was there, but that was not important.

"_Papa!"_ he heard her cry, and then felt her arms around his waist, almost knocking the wind out of him. She sobbed against his shoulder, but when she looked up at him, he saw she was tearless. Cosette beamed at him with sad eyes.

Jean Valjean embraced his daughter again, trying to hold her against him, to remember this feeling of being complete. If he was taken back to prison, he would at least have the memory of Cosette loving him. His eyes, however, were not dry.

He thought he knew how much he had missed her. He was wrong.

But all too soon, she was taken away again. The guards told him that the hearing was to start in five minutes. He closed his eyes, marveling at how quickly his sorrow could return.

"I know how hard this is," Monsieur Pontmercy said. "But you need to keep fighting."

It was only the hearing today- it was pretty obvious that nothing would change. They were pleading not guilty, and then would get a trial date. Valjean would remain in the jail until then- he would not go to the galleys unless proven guilty.

An hour later, the trial date was set for January 27th, 1833. Just over a month. Just before Valjean was carted away, Cosette rushed over to him once more. She kissed his cheek.

"I love you, father," she said, this time with tears. "And you mustn't give up yet!"

* * *

A week later, on Christmas Eve, Cosette came down early for dinner. She heard voices in the living room, but stopped short when she heard her name.

"...it's not proper for her to be here, father," Marius' Aunt's voice came through. Cosette felt instantly uncomfortable. She surely couldn't just enter the room now, could she? But instead of leaving, she continued to listen, knowing it was wrong.

"Well, where else should she go?" Grandfather said in his customary gruff but loving tone. "I don't see any problem."

"It's not at all appropriate or respectable."

"Well, it's clear something has happened to her father. He's just up and disappeared-"

"Exactly," Aunt Gillenormond said. "And you're ready to let your grandson marry someone like that?"

"She's lovely," Grandfather defended. "And this is her home too. I know something is going on behind our backs, but there's nothing improper about her staying here. We live here too- it's not as though they went and bought a house just the two of them."

"But-"

"Please don't bring this up again," he said, sounding tired. "I won't risk a fight. He already left once- personally, I don't want to lose him again."

* * *

"Your grandfather knows something is going on," Cosette said to Marius about a minute later, when she went into the library, where he was studying the case.

"How do you know?"

"I heard him talking to your aunt," Cosette said.

"Well... he was bound to guess sometime. We haven't given him much of a story." It was true- both had claimed that Cosette's father had suddenly gone out of town. But he'd been gone for two and a half weeks now and neither can given any sort of explanation, nor given a date as to when he would return.

"And you're always at the jail," Cosette said, somewhat blamefully. Grandfather was bound to notice that Marius, who not a month ago could not spend enough time with Cosette, now spent between six and seven hours of the best hours of the day outside the house. And truth be told, Cosette was resentful that she had never been able to go see her father. But she shook her head, knowing why this path was being taken. "I'm sorry. I just miss him, that's all. It's very hard to be helpless, you know," she said.

"You haven't been helpless," Marius said. "Half of the defense is based on what you've said about him. Well, yours is the most important testimonial anyway."

Cosette looked satisfied, but she didn't know that Marius was actually desperate for some facts. Valjean was keeping tight-lipped on several accounts, refusing to tell him the whole truth about several of the events he was accused of. Marius knew that he had stolen a loaf of bread to feed his starving nieces and nephews, and that he had broken parole. But the situation surrounding Monsieur Madeleine and Inspector Javert was a mystery, as well as Cosette. Cosette knew relatively nothing about her childhood, as she had been young when Jean Valjean had taken her in. However, she hadn't been _that_ young- apparently she'd been about seven. Marius had plenty of memories from when he was seven, so it was surprising that Cosette had none.

The state would doubtless drag her situation into the court, as she was not his daughter, and he did not have legal custody over her. Marius needed to find out who her parents were- he prayed they were both dead, otherwise that was another crime that would be added to the list.

Marius' entire defense was based on the vague remarks given to him by Valjean, and the fact that the man had been good to his daughter. The day before, Marius had angrily taken out his frustration on Valjean.

"You've done a damned good job of convincing the court you're guilty, you know? There are no friends, no neighbors, _no one_ who can testify to your innocence-"

"Did you talk to Madame Toussaint?" Valjean had suggested.

"She told me you kept to yourself," Marius said, "And didn't leave the house much. That doesn't exactly help prove that you're innocent. You won't tell me anything helpful, and you won't tell me _why._"

But Valjean said nothing. Marius, trying not to storm out right there, restrained himself and sat down, willing himself to go through the information one more time.

* * *

The next day, the Gillenormonds, Marius, and Cosette celebrated Christmas at church. Then, at noon, they enjoyed a delicious meal prepared by the cook, and tried their very best to have a happy Christmas. But Cosette, try as she might, couldn't shake the thought of her father, alone in his cell. Would they even give him something special to eat?

She stared out the window at the grey city, and sighed. She'd been thinking lately that he might not ever get out. Though she tried not to give up, it had been hard lately. She missed him.

After they'd eaten, Cosette went into the living room and sat by the Christmas tree, examining the colorful and shiny ornaments and smelling the evergreen. It was a far more beautiful tree than she and her father had ever had, but to Cosette, it hadn't mattered.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Marius standing behind her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried not to be sad, for a minute. She knew she'd been rather depressed lately, and hoped he didn't think it was his fault. The situation was just enough to run a person dry. When she looked up, she saw he was in his coat, with gloves.

"Are you going out? Today?" She was bewildered- it was Christmas!

He smiled and led her to the front door. "Yes, and so are you. Come, put on your coat and we'll go."

"Where are we going?" she asked as she put her hood on over her head, and slipped her gloves on.

"Well, I thought a lot about this... and I decided it's cruel to have your father spend Christmas alone."

Her jaw dropped, and then her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, _thank you!_" She threw her arms around him. "I love you so much," she cried.

"But," he said, taking her shoulders so he could look her in the eye, "You have to understand that there was a _reason _I didn't take you before. It's dangerous. Cosette, some of the men in there are animals, and the minute you go into that jail, they'll just get worse. Mark my words," he said, his eyes growing wide. "Just don't let it scare you."

* * *

How could she not be scared? She and Marius had to walk through the jail to get to the room where she could see her father. They walked in a thin aisle with cells on either side. Cosette had said she would be fine, but she hadn't expected how right Marius had been. They were animals. They leered at her, and she shook while they yelled things at her that she knew were obscene, but she had no idea what they meant. She kept her eyes front, following the police officer who was escorting them. Marius was talking, probably trying to distract her, but she couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Her heart beat wildly, and she felt Marius' hands on her shoulders, too tight, as though gripping her would make sure she wasn't hurt.

It was apparent why Marius had never brought her here before, and she never wanted to go back. Some men ignored her, others seemed embarassed at the behavior of the more vocal ones. But despite the fact that most of the men were not frightening, there were enough wild ones to make the experience terrifying. She'd never had an encounter with men who were either dangerous or womanizing, so she was even more horrified than necessary. She convinced herself that nothing could happen, as long as the police were there. She hated to see them as good, though, after what had happened to her father. They were the reason he was here.

"What a pretty girl," she heard one purr. "Come here, beautiful..."

She saw Marius looking to her left, and looked like he was going to lunge at someone, but restrained himself. He did, however, keep her from looking in that direction. The man who she couldn't see was making a strange noise, and her face colored without any idea of what was happening... she heard a clang, and he quieted. When she looked up, she saw the officer holding his nightstick, which he had obviously whacked against the bars of the cell to quiet the man.

_Animals,_ she thought again.

Finally, after the the longest walk of her life, she and Marius were put into a visitor's room.

"He'll be here in a minute," the officer said, and left them with a guard, who leaned casually against the wall, bored.

They waited quietly, until they heard the door creak open. Valjean walked in, looking unshaven and tired. His eyes fell on Marius first, and he looked bored and uninterested. The usual visit. But then he saw Cosette.

"Papa," she whispered. Last time she'd seen him, he'd been dressed nicely, shaved, looking his best. Now, he looked like a prisoner. Her heart broke for him.

"You're... here," he said weakly. He was blinded, momentarily.

"Merry Christmas, Papa," she said feebly.

"I'll be right outside," Marius said, uncomfortable. Valjean didn't seem to hear him, but Cosette looked at him gratefully.

"How are you?" Cosette asked, taking her father's hands. They were cold.

He shook his head. She did not need to know what it was really like in a place like this. "How are _you_?"

She bit her lip. She felt like, if she told him she was happy, she would be betraying him. And if she told him she was unhappy, he would be upset.

"I am... well," she said truthfully. "But I miss you dearly, Papa. I'm so terribly sorry this happened to you. But just wait- we'll get you out, and everything will be as it was-"

"Cosette," he said weakly. "Can you just... talk? Tell me a story, tell me something that happened to you recently. I just want to hear your voice."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Of course, Papa."

"The other day, when it was so cold out, I went to the garden to put some bread out for the birds..."

* * *

**Marius will get some help soon, don't worry... :)**


	6. Innocence is Resilience

Marius was reading Jean Valjean's file for what seemed like the thousandth time when he heard a knock at the door. Basque entered, and informed Marius he had a visitor.

"Send him in," he said distractedly.

A man entered. Marius, at first, did not recognize him.

"Good evening, monsieur Pontmercy," he greeted with an oily smile. "My name is Thenard."

* * *

Marius ran from his study after kicking the man out, almost tripping down the stairs.

"Cosette!" he cried, trying not to drop all of the papers he was holding. "_Cosette!"_

"I'm up here," she said, coming out of the blue room and standing at the top of the stairs. "What on earth is the matter?"

He scrambled up the stairs once more and took her in his arms. He kissed her emphatically on the mouth, and lifted her off the ground.

"Marius!" she said, breathless, once he set her down again. "You must tell me what's going on-"

"It's your father," he said, beaming. "He's saved- he's no criminal, he's a saint, he's a savior... he's _my_ savior, and yours. The barricades- he was there, but he didn't kill Javert, he was there to save _me!_ Me! To bring me to you! And... and he..." Marius was speechless, not able to articulate his excitement. "I... I have to go!"

"Marius, it's almost ten o'clock at night," Cosette said.

"I know, I know!" he said, in a passion. "But I have to go to the jail and ask him about this. Why on earth wouldn't he say...? But it doesn't matter! I have proof right here that he's innocent!"

"Well, I'll pray for you to succeed," she said thoughtfully.

"Goodbye," he said, kissing the top of her head hurriedly. "Sleep well."

* * *

Marius slapped each of the articles down on the table in front of Valjean. "Javert committed suicide," he said. "You are Monsieur Madeleine- that's where the money comes from, there was no murder. _Why didn't you tell me you are innocent?"_

Valjean was quiet. "Does it matter?"

"_Of course!_" Marius said, ready to pull out all his hair. "Of course it matters! You haven't committed the crimes you are imprisoned for! And it's proved, right here on paper. Incontestably, you can go free!"

"I still broke parole," he said.

"Yes," Marius agreed, sobering a little, but not losing hope. "But it was for a petty crime, a long time ago. As you are innocent of the other crimes, we can play for sympathy- you were trying to feed children, and after your release, you could not get a job anywhere. You went on to build a hovel of a place into a prospering town, employing a representative from almost every family in the town... I am sure, with the right defense, you can be issued a pardon.

"My grandfather has friends, there is money, it's done," Marius said. "This is France, remember. You broke parole years ago. They have no interest anymore. They don't have the prison space to keep you there for the rest of your life, when you are not dangerous or a criminal."

"You sound so sure," Valjean said. "But my fight is done," he sighed.

"Don't you want your name to be cleared?" Marius asked softly. "Monsieur, rest assured that I will _not _stop. I owe you more than just my life, but that's all I can give- if it takes my life to get you out of this jail, I will spend it. There's just one more question."

He looked up. "And what's that?"

"Cosette," Marius said. "Where did she come from...? You were the mayor... who was she? And please tell me the truth, not a vague half-truth. This is important- if you are not her father, it needs to be clear to the court that you came across her in legal circumstances."

"You don't want to hear it," he said bitterly.

"I do."

"It could ruin everything," Valjean said. "How much more can be put on her shoulders? And you- to marry the adopted daughter of a convict... but _this..._ You mustn't know."

"I've already told you. Your past, or her mother's and father's, have little to do with her. I know her, I know who I am marrying. And I will not leave her because of anything you say."

"But your morals, Monsieur Pontmercy, are that of a young man who knows too much. Young men think they can make excellent decisions, indeed, better ones than wise men- it is not so. Tell me, if I was guilty, would you have brought Cosette here on Christmas?"

"If you were guilty," Marius amended, "I would have dealt with you differently. Indeed, I do not believe we would see eye to eye. If you had committed a murder, then I most certainly would not bring Cosette here, and if you walked free, I would not ask you to live with us," he said coldly. "But that is my treatment of you. My treatment of Cosette is independent of your criminal record- or anyone's. I assure you."

"Cosette is the daughter of a woman named Fantine," Valjean said. "That's all. Just Fantine, nothing else. She worked in my factory when I was mayor, and it was discovered that she had an illegitimate daughter. That's right. Cosette is..."

"Don't," Marius said, not wanting to hear that word applied.

"She was fired," he continued. "I let it happen," he said, filled with shame. "And she fell. You understand what I mean?"

"No," Marius said, his innocence still protecting him from understanding this story.

"Of course you don't," he said kindly. "But she... she had beautiful, golden hair. She sold it, for Cosette, who was living with another family at the time. She sold her beautiful, white teeth, for money. And then... there was nowhere to go but down." His eyes were filled with an ancient sadness, a need for repent, and a pain so acute it hurt to even meet his gaze. "She died of consumption before she was able to see Cosette again. She had gone nearly six years without her daughter, and I promised to bring her to her... but I was too late. Fantine died, and I caused it. I caused everything that happened to her."

Marius was silent for a long time, trying to process how Cosette, the whitest of the white and the purest of the pure, could have risen from the parentage of a convict and a prostitute. "Who was her father?"

"He is not worth mentioning," Valjean said, with hate. "He left Fantine and Cosette when she was about two. Fantine had no one to care for her, no one to point her in any direction."

"Two!" Marius exclaimed. "That's abominable. He _knew _he had a child_?_"

"Oh, he knew," Valjean said. "And I'm sure he does not regret it. I do wonder if he ever thinks about his daughter. I cannot imagine being able to forget one's child."

"She is better off without him," Marius said acidly. "She knows none of this?"

"Correct," Valjean said. "She would not understand it. But... where did you find all this from?"

Marius shook his head, the memory unpleasant. "A man named Thenardier came to my house- he tracked down you, I suppose, and told me he had some information to let you walk free... but he also tried to frame you for murdering a man- me! His face was white as a sheet when he found out that I was the 'corpse' on your back... anyway, he just wanted money."

Valjean's fists where balled up on the table, his knuckles white. "Does he know about Cosette? He knows that she lives there...?"

"I didn't mention her to him," Marius said. "But I suppose. Why else would he come to me, when dealing with your affairs? He must know. But he's gone- he's going to America."

Valjean breathed an obvious sigh of relief. "When I found Cosette... she was living there, with the Thenardiers. Fantine had seen the woman with her daughters... one was about Cosette's age."

It was Marius' turn to go tense. "Eponine," he whispered.

"Yes," Valjean said, looking up. "They took Cosette in... but they did not treat her as their daughter, like Fantine wanted. They made her a slave, they beat her, they starved her. Until I finally took her away on Christmas eve nine years ago."

"I had no idea," Marius said, filled with horror. "I knew she didn't remember anything about her childhood..."

"I am guessing she forced herself to forget," Valjean said. "She never thought of it, and I never spoke of it, and in order to recover, I think she pushed it all out of her mind. She has nightmares still, though. I hear her wake some nights."

Marius put his face in his hands. "If I had known..." his hands and voice started to shake. "If I'd had any idea... I wouldn't have let him walk out, wouldn't have helped him in the least... God Almighty... I _thanked _him for telling me this information, I gave him _money._ I knew he was despicable, but I had no idea how cruel. To torture a _child!"_

"There are some people who do not have any respect for other human life. Not a care whatsoever," Valjean spat. "And they'll do anything to help themselves. But we can't change that. None of that matters now."

"Well. I will be talking to the court as soon as I can. In the morning I will ask for an audience with the judge, to let them know the new developments- we have proof about these charges, and we can get them cleared even before the trial. Psychologically, it will be easier for people to relate to you if they knew right from the beginning that you are innocent."

Valjean nodded. "Monsieur, go home. It is late. You may be my lawyer but I am still much older than you, and... and I now think of you as my son. And you should take care of yourself."

Marius swallowed and looked at this man, who was such an enigma. "Thank you," he forced out. "I will."

* * *

When he returned, he hung up his coat by the door, and saw Cosette's silhouette against the fireplace. She was seated very close to the hearth, her knees tucked against her, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her dressing gown had slipped from her shoulders, and the neck of it hung around the middle of her back, exposing the skin of her arms in the firelight. She held her hands up to the flames, and then turned to smile at him, her hair in two curtains on either side of her face.

Marius felt something swell inside him at the sight of her and was surprised to feel his throat constrict.

He sat beside her, and opened his arms to her in an invitation. She laid her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, his thumb feeling her soft arm. He could not believe what this person he was holding in his arms had been through. She was so white, so happy, so pure and so kind that a dark and torturous past was unimaginable when applied to her. She resembled a phoenix, strong enough to prosper and flourish despite the wretchedness she'd been born into.

If Thenardier, or even Eponine, had been there, he could have broken their necks.

"What are you doing awake?" he whispered after a long time.

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed. "Knowing you were out at the jail... now that I know how horrible it is there, I hate knowing you're there. I worry about you, and at night it's worse."

"I'm not the one you need to worry about," he said, thinking of how her father was spending another night in a jail cell.

"I know," she said, her voice thickening. "But I can't even begin to let myself think of him. It's too horrible, and I feel powerless. Oh, Marius, I just want him _out of there._"

"I do too," he said. "He doesn't deserve to be treated that way. But things are looking up," he said. "Significantly. He's innocent, Cosette, and now we have proof."

He explained the newspaper articles, and what they meant.

"I knew he was innocent the whole time," she said with easy confidence. He wished he had always been as sure as she- it made him guilty for ever doubting the man who had given him everything. She shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "You know, before I moved here, I saw you all the time. I feel like, though we live in the same house, I haven't seen you properly in weeks. You scarcely eat meals with us, and you're at the jail all day, until it's late and everyone is asleep."

"I know," he said, and rubbed his forehead. "But it will be over soon, and it will be worth it! You know why I'm doing this, Cosette."

"I do!" she said. "And I'm so grateful... I don't know what can express that. But I miss you."

"Once this is over, I promise to spend all the time with you I can. I just can't right now."

"I know," she accepted.

"But in a month, we'll be married," he said. The mention of dates made his throat constrict.

His mind reeled, thinking of how little time they had. He leaned against the couch, Cosette's head gently on his chest, and thought for a long time. The trial date was looming near. January 27th. February 16th was their marriage. He closed his eyes tight, trying to draw the thought away. But Jean Valjean was right- he was not an innocent man. Yes, he was innocent of the worst crimes on his record, but he had broken parole, which was a serious infraction. Enough to keep him in jail for the rest of his life.

Why did this have to happen?

_No sense thinking of that,_ Marius said. _There's nothing I can change._

Everyone knew something was wrong in the house, now. On Christmas, Marius and Cosette did not return from their outing to the jail for a very long time. Cosette had stayed with her father for an hour- the longest time Marius could get the police to allow them. After, though, she'd been so shaken that Marius took her to a nearby park, so they could walk and she could calm down.

Grandfather knew it was odd for the two of them to leave for several hours on Christmas, with no explanation.

January 27th was in less than two weeks. The trial would take about a week, the verdict would come out about two weeks before the wedding. He shuddered. He could not face it if he lost... He would die of guilt, die of regret and shame. The saint of a man who had saved him, saved Cosette, and given them each other, would be going to prison.

And how could Cosette recover from that? Would she want him anymore, if he had failed?

"Cosette?" he whispered, his fear rendering his voice weak. "What if... what if we lose?"

No answer came. He looked down- she'd fallen asleep.


	7. The Theatre

The next day, Jean Valjean was cleared of the worst of his charges. However, he was not released on bail, because of his remaining charge. Because he was being tried with breaking parole, he was not allowed out of jail, as he had effectively evaded the police for nearly twenty years. The weren't going to risk losing him again. That was a bad sign, but the rest was good. Marius took Cosette to the theatre to celebrate.

They were seated at the orchestra level, and after buying their tickets, they went into the lobby. The theatre was a diverse place, and Cosette's eyes were wide with wonder as she saw all kinds of people- the box seat audience members, where women had the grandest of dresses and their husbands wore shirts of dazzling white fabric, all the way down to the dregs of society.

They waited in the line, showing their tickets to the man at the door to the house, and Marius looked about them. His eyes landed on the man in front of them, and the woman vying for his attention. A prostitute, a streetwalker, a whore, a woman of the night, all those names. They avoided the men who were accompanied by women, and sought the single men, especially the wealthy ones. The woman looked as though she was purring, as she tried to hook the man for the night.

Marius felt something curl inside his stomach, something between nausea and horror. Usually, he ignored these types of women. In theory, he pitied them, be he knew to stay well away. Nothing good could come of any interaction with them- even charity could lead to an undesirable result. But the woman in front of him perplexed him, and he could not ignore her.

He felt a tug on his arm. Cosette, who did not know exactly what that woman was but was smart enough to get the general idea of what she represented and was selling, gave Marius a very upset look, seeing him stare. He quickly turned his attention back to Cosette, and then they were ushered to their seats, which were far away from any more women of that ilk.

The show started, a drama, but the story did not hold Marius' interest. Cosette laughed at some of the funny lines, and had tears running down her face at the end, but Marius' thoughts were far away.

Prostitution was a disease, he decided. It was contagious as one, and left behind damage just as dangerous. Once it touched a woman, she could never leave it behind. Her reputation would always be scarred, she would always be public. She could not go back. Her body would be that of the city, her soul open to no one, for no one would ever truly know her. No one would want to.

Marius pitied the woman in the line, and indeed all women to whom that fate had fallen. It made his heart ache. That woman was the daughter of someone, the sister of someone, indeed, had probably been loved once. But she had come across this fate, and had no choice. Such was society that women were forced into this role. Those words- the sexual, predatory words she had purred before had not been hers, they had been coaxed out of her mouth. By who? By the years spent sliding down a slope that led her to this theatre, to lead men into her bed.

No one could know Cosette's mother had been such a woman. No one would understand. He would keep that secret for he and he alone, because they would automatically put Cosette into the same category. Though a woman could not leave prostitution behind in her lifetime, it did not have to touch the next generation.

But that Cosette was linked to that past somehow put an element of danger to her future. Indeed, she had a dowry, so if she hadn't married, she would never have been forced into that life if her father died... but what if the money was not legal? That fact still had to be investigated.

Then Marius remembered the money had not been in the bank. It had been hidden somewhere, a secret. Cosette had no idea she had money, nor had anyone. She had no family, just Jean Valjean. What good was money if no one knew she had it? It might as well not exist.

The memory of the barricade flashed to Marius' mind. When Monsieur Fauchelevent had shown his face. "I know him," Marius had said, thinking that everyone at the barricade had come to die. How stupid he was then! If Monsieur Fauchelevent had died- and indeed it was possible- and if he, Marius, had died, Cosette would have fallen. She would not know about the money, and either was, she was not of age at the time and could not have received it. She would have no one to look after her. What choice would she have had?

How long would it have taken before some predator had found her? She would be starving, thin, cold... How long would it be until she was hungry enough to let someone help her? Who would it have been? What kind of man would she have, unknowingly, wandered off with, thinking he was indeed only offering her a bed for the night? He would say she was beautiful, and offer her somewhere to sleep. She would not know what went along with that.

And then he would bring her to his home, and she would become his prey.

And then she would be just another woman who had fallen, like any of the women on the streets tonight. How long would she have hope for? How long would she still be 'Cosette'? At what point would her soul fade, and her will to live leave her?

Marius' hands shook, marveling at how close she had come, anger driving him mad. The thoughts of her imaginary rapist enough to make him crazed. By the luckiest twist of fate, her father had lived. He had lived. But only just.

He lived not to enjoy his life- God did not will for him to live because he, Marius, was important. He willed for both Marius and Valjean to live so Cosette would live, so Cosette could remain elavated and vivacious.

* * *

"Cosette," Felix Tholomyès told the detective in Paris that very night. "Her last name should be Tholomyès, but I have no idea if she actually goes by that. She should be about eighteen."

"She will be found, Monsieur," the detective said once he finished his notes. "I have never once failed on a case."

* * *

**I would adore some reviews. Thanks!**


	8. In Court

"Mademoiselle Fauchelevent," Marius said to Cosette, on the stand. "How did you grow up with your father? What was your life like?"

"Well," she said delicately. "I was schooled in the convent of Petit-Picpus until I was fourteen. He believed that it would be better for me if I continued my education away from the convent, and saw a little more of the world. For the next few years, we lived in our house with a garden, where I continued my reading and sewing, and he brought me up with all the care bestowed on proper young ladies, perhaps more."

"Did you ever feel you were hiding?" he asked.

"No," she said, as though surprised he had even asked this, though they had practiced many times. "Why, we went out quite frequently. When I was fifteen, he took me to the Luxembourg every day. It was common for us to go on walks, and run errands... like any other family, we left the house frequently."

Marius was well aware that Cosette, the last witness, was also the best. She knew Valjean the best, and knew him in a positive light. But he knew she would win people's hearts easily- a pretty, well-brought-up girl looks trustworthy. And more importantly, people would not want to break her heart.

"Mademouiselle," he continued. "What were some important things your father taught you? About right and wrong, morals, rules, and things of that sort?"

"What any father would," she said honestly. "It was wrong to lie, to steal, and to be cruel. Most of the time we spent out of the house was doing charity work- bringing money, blankets, and food to the homeless or to the poor. I was taught to pray, and to always be grateful for what I have."

Marius smiled encouragingly at her, and then she bowed her head. "He is a wonderful father. I never wanted for anything, but he never gave me too much either. And..." she started to cry. "I miss him dearly. I love him dearly, and there's no reason for him to be taken away. He is a good man, and to imprison him would be wrong."

Marius handed her a handkerchief, and she sweetly batted her eyes, her shoulders shaking a little beneath her shawl.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle. That will be all."

* * *

Their witnesses had been few, but important ones. Besides Cosette, Marius had pulled in a representative from the Paris jail, who informed the court that jails were harsh, and places more fitted for criminals than docile old men with families. Also, Marius made sure he reminded them that, by putting Valjean in jail, he would be paid for by the government, which was unnecessary. They could be using their money and space elsewhere, while several murderers and rapists were still at large.

He also managed to find 'Monsieur' Valjean's National Guard supervisor, who informed the court that he was always on time for duties, and performed them well and without complaint, a helpful and law-abiding citizen.

However, despite Cosette's tears on the stand, which were very hard to resist, Marius was not sure that they would win. After all, they were trying to convince the court that the crime he committed was not worth jail time. However, he had committed the crime. By the rules of the book, he should go to jail.

The lawyer from the prosecution stood up to cross examine Cosette. Marius held his breath- they had practiced several questions he was sure they would ask her, and she was prepared. But it was still nerve-wracking.

"Just maintain that he was a good man, and that he brought you up well," Marius said. "That's all you need."

"Mademoiselle Fauchelevent," the other lawyer said, his paces menacing to Marius. He looked over his glasses at Cosette, his gaze piercing. "It is true that Fauchelevent is not your true name, is it not?"

"I... I suppose not," Cosette said nervously.

"And that Jean Valjean is not your father, by birth?"

"Well, maybe, but he-"

"A simple yes or no would suffice."

Cosette flinched. "No, he is not."

"Mademoiselle, throughout all of your excursions to gardens and your charity work, did you ever speak to people? Did your father seem to have friends? Did you ever meet new people? Were you introduced to anyone?"

"No," she said, looking down. "Just the people we were helping."

"And, Mademoiselle, are you aware that, no matter how good a father he was to you, it is still a crime to break parole and to live under an assumed name?"

"I am," she said with strength.

"One more point, Mademoiselle. Is it true that you are to be married in a matter of days? It says on your civil papers that you are."

"Yes," she confessed.

"Is your fiance here?" the other lawyer asked, seeming kind for a moment.

Marius stiffened, knowing exactly what he was doing- showing the court that he, Marius, had an ulterior motive.

"Yes."

"Will you point him out for us?"

She swallowed, catching on, but nodded slowly, and pointed at Marius.

"Thank you. Could it perhaps be that your fiance, Monsieur Pontmercy, is representing your father to ease some familial troubles?"

Cosette did not answer, looking confused. The other lawyer did not wait, though.

"To ease his reputation before he marries you, so he would not have an in-law in jail? Or perhaps just to make you happy? Not because this man is actually as good as he seems-"

"Objection!" Marius called out. "How could she possibly know the answers to those questions?"

But the point had been made. However, Cosette was not done.

"Monsieur, I have a response to your earlier question."

He looked at her, abashed.

"Yes?"

"Well, in response to your question about meeting others... my father is well acquainted with everyone in Monsieur Pontmercy's family. We never hid from them, not for a minute. I would venture to say he has made friend with Monsieur Pontmercy's grandfather. And my father, who you seem to believe hid from the world, never objected a minute to my marriage into Monsieur Pontmercy's family, or time spent at their house. He lived quite a normal life."

"Thank you, Mademouselle," the lawyer said bitterly.

* * *

"Today, I am asking you to free a man. A man who sought freedom in a mistake he made twenty years ago- indeed, a mistake. Nothing more. He broke parole once, and could never go back. But he tried. He spent every minute of his time bettering the world. This is a man who raised a town from the ashes, making it a prosperous village, and cutting the starvation and homeless rates to pieces. This is a man who has saved lives- namely this young woman here, orphaned at the age of seven. He brought her up in a convent, in a traditional, Catholic, charitable way. This man spends his time serving France, and serving the church. He is no criminal.

"Does a mistake, a twenty-year-old mistake, merit a lifetime in prison? A lifetime, I must remind you, paid for by your nation. Jail is a place for reform, where criminals can understand the wrongs they have done. It is also a place to put dangerous peoples, and remove them from the streets. Monsieur Valjean is not dangerous, not in the least. Nor does he need to reform- he has reformed. He has spent twenty years reforming. He has done far more good out of jail than he could in jail. If this man was locked up twenty years ago, countless people would have died. A town would not have been built, a girl would not have been saved from death. If you lock this man up, think of the good things the world will be deprived of. Does he need to reform? I ask you to think of real criminals- does this man come to mind? No.

When you make your decision this afternoon, I beg you to remember the facts. The money spent on his imprisonment, versus the charity this man has done. The good he has done, versus the small, petty wrong he committed long ago. I ask you to ask _yourself._ Is such a crime worth imprisonment? And, I think we all know the answer. No, it is not. Thank you."

* * *

On the day of the presentation of the verdict, Marius could not stop shaking. He truly had no idea which way the court would sway- with the law, or with their hearts? Before entering the courtroom, he managed to calm himself so he could look intelligent and mature, rather than frightened and childlike.

That morning, before he and Cosette had left the house, she assured him.

"Whatever happens today," she promised, "I love you. You told them the truth, and that was the best that could have been done. They just need to listen. But if they don't... I do not blame you."

She sat directly behind Valjean and Marius, in the first row of seats for civilians. She had brought her rosary, and was silent, concentrated on praying in her seat. She watched her father rise, and felt her heart swell in fear, scarcely daring to breathe.

She watched as they set him free.

* * *

The minute the three were out of the courtroom, Cosette reached for both her father and Marius and pulled their heads against her, embracing them at the same time, and kissing both their cheeks. Her relief was so potent that her breaths all felt sweet, but that was nothing.

Jean Valjean was free. He felt twenty years of purgatory, hell, and chains lifted from his shoulders. He was a free man, able to go anywhere he wanted, and use his real name, and no one could question him.

And most importantly, throughout all this, throughout his guilt and his lies, Cosette loved him still.

* * *

**This is not over yet!**


	9. The Father

Jean Valjean could not think of a time he had been happier, for now he was free. He had no reason to hide, no reason to use any other name other than his own. And, though Cosette and Marius' marriage had once been a vexation, though Marius had once represented an end to Valjean, he was now happy. As he was free and could, there would be no guilt attached to living with them. He saw how happy Marius made Cosette, and he was guiltless and had no regrets. Marius had now saved him, just as he had once saved the young man. To him, they were now something of equals. The young man had earned his respect and his esteem. Valjean could now move with her into the next part of life, guiltlessly and happily.

The day after the trial, Cosette, Marius, and Jean Valjean were at the apartment. They were packing Valjean's things away, and helping him move into the Marais that afternoon. Valjean was folding his clothes, and Cosette was getting his bedclothes together. Marius, distracted as always, was putting Valjean's books away. Of course, that meant he was taking them individually off the shelves and leafing through them, and making something of a pile on the floor. He sat with his back leaned against the bed, a book propped on his knees.

"Marius," Cosette scolded for the fourth time.

"Pardon?" he asked, looking up again. "Oh. Sorry. Here, I promise I'll start working." He put two of Valjean's books into his trunk, which was open on the floor, and then went back to what he was doing.

Valjean, who had actually started to like Marius Pontmercy, laughed. The three spent the rest of the morning packing, talking, and laughing, until they sat to lunch. For once, the future was clear and cloudless.

* * *

"I've got a file for you," the detective said with a broad grin. "You'll be happy to hear that we have found your daughter."

"Fantastic," Tholomyès said slowly. "And?"

"She's called Cosette Fauchelevent. Proper name, Euphrasie. She lives with a man named Jean Valjean, who just was cleared of charges of broken parole. She's going to be married in exactly a week."

"To whom?"

The detective rifled through his papers until he found the newspaper announcement of their engagement, along with the files on the Gillenormond's. "A man named Marius Pontmercy, a bourgeoisie. Nothing special, income wise. However, he is the heir to a family fortune, but he won't get it until his aunt dies."

"That's irrelevent," Tholomyès cut the man off. "What about the girl?"

"This part you'll like. She has six hundred thousand francs to her name."

He blanched. "From _where? _Certainly not from her mother!"

"This man she lives with, I suppose. She's not of age yet, but she'll get them next week when she marries."

Tholomyès got both her addresses, and paid the detective.

"Pardon me, monsieur," the detective asked. "But why did you want to find her again?"

"I was curious to who she was," he said honestly. "But now it seems that it could be fruitful."

* * *

The three joyous souls heard a knock on the door of the apartment.

"I'll get it," Jean Valjean said, getting up and leaving.

"Marius," Cosette sais reproachfully, looking in the trunk as she put the folded pillowcases away. "What have you done in here? All the books are knocked over. Honestly, have you ever packed before?"

"I'm sorry," he said gravely. "I just should not organize anything- I give up too easily."

"Oh!" she huffed, and began taking things out of the trunk to put them back in neatly. She took out a pillow, now stripped of its cover, and tossed it behind her. It hit him in the face.

"Excuse me!" he protested, and picked it up from where it fell on the floor. "Just because you're angry, Cosette, doesn't mean you should throw things at me."

She turned and made a face at him.

He hit her shoulder with the pillow. "See?"

She fumbled for a minute before finding another pillow. Now armed, she prepared for battle.

For a minute, they completely forgot their age, and carelessly attacked each other with their pillows. After several minutes of concentrated and serious combat, Cosette had the upper hand, and Marius had his hands up near his face, shielding his eyes from her soft, semi-threatening swipes. Finally, he fought back.

He dove, catching her around her waist and drawing a shriek from her, and they both rolled to the floor. He attacked her sides with his hands until she was gasping for breath, laughing and surrendering.

"Fine! I'll stop if you do!" she resigned.

He ceased, and they both lay on the floor, laughing and breathing hard, spirits flying high. Then they heard a noise, and saw Jean Valjean and another man standing in the doorway, staring down at them with serious looks on their faces. Once the young couple's attention had finally been gained, Valjean raised an eyebrow.

Their laughter died quickly, and their faces grew red. Still, they weren't quite ashamed of acting childishly, for they were so happy. Marius hurriedly got to his feet, and helped Cosette up.

They noticed then that Cosette's father's face was stiff and angry, not simply annoyed at their immaturity (in Cosette's opinion, it was silly for anyone to laugh at someone having fun anyway). But he looked far more upset than was necessary.

"This is Monsieur Tholomyès," Valjean said rigidly.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, monsieur," Cosette said, curtsying. Marius said a similar greeting and shook the man's hand. He was of medium height with light brown hair, and looked somewhat familiar to them both. If Marius had to hazard a guess, he would say their visitor was in his late thirties, based on the web of laugh lines around his mouth and on his forehead.

"It is nice to see you again," he said to Cosette.

She looked puzzled. "Sorry? Have we met before?"

"I doubt you would remember," said Valjean harshly.

"It is nice to see you, Mademoiselle," Tholomyès continued. "You look... rather as I expected you to." He searched her face for a long time, until she grew uncomfortable and looked down at the floor. "Uncanny, the resemblance to her."

"Excuse us," Valjean said to Cosette and Marius. "I need to speak to our visitor in private."

The two men left Marius and Cosette alone, who stared in confusion.

"That seems strange to me," Cosette said. "Do you know what that was about?"

"I have no idea," he said honestly. "You don't recognize him at all?" He reached behind him, subtly feeling across the bed without attracting her notice until his hand closed on what he was looking for.

"No," she said. "And my father didn't look to happy about his visit."

"That's funny... I think he writes political essays. I recognize his name from some writings my friend Courfeyrac used to read. But I have no idea what he would want with any of us."

She looked puzzled for a long time, and stared in silence. Marius broke it by hitting her with a pillow.

"You!" she exclaimed, adequately distracted.

"Tell me," he said, taking a seat on the bed and trying to distract her more. "What would you like to do next Wednesday?"

"I don't know," she said curiously. "What we usually do?"

"Well, next Wednesday is our first day as husband and wife, meaning it's the first day we can go anywhere we want to go, just us. So I can take you anywhere you want- within reason, I guess. Or not. We could go anywhere. Where would you like to go?"

She smiled, and put a hand over her mouth while she thought. "Well, it's Ash Wednesday. Church?"

"Of course," he allotted. "But afterwards? Let's be creative."

"Can we just go for a walk around the city?" she asked. "I've never really explored. I think that would be delightful."

"I'll write it on my calender," he joked. "Tuesday: get married. Wednesday: walking. Perfect."

She laughed, pushing against his arm. Then they heard a crash from the kitchen of the apartment.

"_No!"_ she heard her father's voice thunder. "That is the most ridiculous request- absolutely not!"

They both stood, listening.

"You won't have a choice," the other man's voice came through the door. "You have no real parental claim over her-"

"Nor do you! You left her to die, you bastard! Without me, she would have!"

Marius' eyes widened, beginning to grasp the situation. Cosette just felt weak and sick to her stomach. She hated fighting, it made her sad. Hatred was an evil, and anger was a derivative of that. Whoever this man was that was angering her father was not welcome to her.

"But I am technically-"

"Do not say you are her _father!_" Valjean thundered. "I raised her! You left them, you as good as killed her mother!"

Marius and Cosette both caught on now, but Cosette was very confused. Her parentage was a mystery to her, and hearing someone come to claim that he was her daughter... she was not grateful. Far from being glad to have the mystery cleared up, Cosette wanted him to let her life alone- it was perfect as it was, right this moment. Whoever this was would only disrupt things.

Marius realized why this man was familiar- he and Cosette had the same colored hair, the same facial structure. Her eyes and mouth were very different, but it was enough for him to look familiar. But the fact that Courfeyrac had read this man's writing... it was unnerving and uncanny. Marius put his arm around Cosette, feeling like a child listening to his parent's argue- completely helpless. Then he realized that, whoever this man was, this affected him too. He opened the door to the bedroom and, urging Cosette to stay put, entered the kitchen where the other men were arguing.

"What is going on?"

"It does not concern you," this Tholomyès snapped.

"That's not for you to decide," Marius snapped back.

"Monsieur Pontmercy," Valjean said. "You remember when I told you about Cosette's- for lack of a better word- father?"

Marius narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

"Well this is the _man_- again, for lack of a better word. The one you think she is better off without. The coward who deserted both Cosette and her mother. This is he. He's back. Because, now that she's nearly legally an adult, he wants her back. Because _now_he wants to excercize his rights as her father."

"Well you can't have her," Marius said simply, turning to the man with a vicious glare on his face. "You have no right!"

"I am her father," the man said curtly. "Which gives me every right. Truth be told, I can sue this man for kidnap."

"You cannot," Marius countered. "You left her. And none of this matters- she is scarcely someone's daughter anymore. The most you could have is a daughter for just a week. I am marrying her next Tuesday. The contracts are drawn up."

Valjean nodded at this man, this snake who had come to steal what happiness he had. "Yes. She is legally an adult the moment she becomes Madame Pontmercy."

"But she won't," Tholomyès said slyly. "Those contracts are drawn up under... what is that name you were using? Not her true identity. I have the law on my side. She is technically Cosette Tholomyès."

"You revoked that right when you left her mother," Marius said acidly. "When you chose a carefree life over your responsibilities. If you're stupid enough to get a woman pregnant when you're not prepared to marry her, you deserve the consequences. Meaning you marry her anyway. Meaning you shouldn't get in that situation in the first place. _Meaning," _he continued, his voice building with anger, "you do not get the _luxury _of having anything to do with Cosette-"

"I will come to pick her up tomorrow at noon," this man said, clearly not listening to Marius, putting his coat on. "Should I come here, or would it be more convenient to come to the Marais? I know that is where she currently resides."

The two men turned pale. Before either uttered a response, Tholomyès turned on his heel and let himself out the door.

"He's after the money," Marius said the moment the door was closed. "I don't know how he found out about it, but that's what he's after. He knows if the money is in her name, the moment he gets any kind of custody of her, he could take it-"

"What's going on?" Cosette asked, coming through the door. "Who was that?"

"No one," Valjean lied instantly.

Marius glared at him. "You are much too good at that."

"Cosette, don't worry," Valjean continued. "This will all be sorted out."

"I have an idea," Marius said. Valjean ignored him.

"Why don't we finish packing?"

"We have to solve this!" Marius said angrily.

"What do you suggest?"

"Take her out of your will! Move all the money, so none of it is in her name anymore. Then he will have no interest in her, and he'll leave her alone."

"Right now I am the only one who can touch them money- next week, you and Cosette will be able to spend it. But if I move it, I'm afraid he will not relent, and he'll find some way to her anyway."

"Then do what?" Marius asked.

"Ask for ransom," he said gravely. "After all, what he says is true. He just does not deserve to exercise those rights."

"Tell me what is going on!" Cosette demanded. She looked at her father, who avoided her gaze. Then she walked up to Marius, who she knew had much more trouble lying to her.

"Your father was here, Cosette." Marius swallowed. "And he's trying to take you away."

* * *

**AHHH**


	10. A Tentative Plan

Cosette opened her mouth to speak, but didn't say anything. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head, as though not believing what she had heard.

"Wait," she said, holding up a hand. "You mean some man I have never met is going to take me away? I'm going to have to go away with someone I don't even know?"

"No," Valjean said sternly. "You aren't going anywhere."

"What does he even want that he didn't want when I was a baby? Honestly- this is ridiculous- don't let him take me away," she said, reaching for Marius' hand. She did not even understand the magnitude of what going away with this man would mean, but she knew it was bad.

"I almost lost you before, it's not happening again," Marius said quietly. "But what are we to do?"

"Let's get out of here, first," Valjean said, and they packed up the rest of his things quickly and left.

"We could elope," Marius mused in the carriage ride to the Marais.

"Like hell you're going to elope," Valjean growled at him, but softly, so Cosette couldn't hear his gruff language.

"He couldn't touch her then," Marius pointed out.

"It's against the church."

"We'll get married in a church," Marius pressed. "Just one far away that will do it quickly."

"I said no!"

"Fine!"

"I promise we'll think of something," Valjean said, for all of their benefits. "But not that."

An hour later, they were in Valjean's new room, this time unpacking, and this time not happy.

"What if we hid her?" Marius suggested.

"Where?"

"At a friend of my grandfather's. We'll stay here, she'll be safe, he won't find her."

"But what will we tell them? No one can know the truth."

"Well-"

"I'm still here," Cosette piped up. "If you want to include me in this conversation, that would be nice. Otherwise talk somewhere else, if you're content to leave me out of everything." She pouted. "I have no idea what's going on, and I'm frightened."

"Darling, you have no reason to be," Marius said tenderly. "Everything will be fine."

"Marius!" came a gruff voice from the hall.

"I'm in here!" he called, and his grandfather came into the room, his ancient eyes wide.

"You two! It's time to leave!"

"Leave?" Marius asked, distracted.

"Oh, my!" Cosette said, a hand flying to her mouth. "How could we forget? We have a meeting with a priest about our vows today- what time is it?"

"Two-thirty. Our meeting is at three. Are you ready?"

"No!" Cosette cried, and ran from the room. The intensity of the meeting dispersed as Marius, his grandfather, Cosette and Valjean ran about, tying ties, changing shirts, putting on hats, finding files and legal documents, pinning up hair, donning hats, and pulling gloves over their hands.

"Let's go," Marius said five minutes later, breathing heavy.

They arrived at the church, but didn't go to the chapel. Instead they all were put into an office, where Marius and Cosette had some documents to sign and discuss the finalities of the ceremony next week.

"And you'll be coming here directly from the courthouse, is that correct?"

"Yes," Marius said. It was necessary to marry legally as well as in the church. Their religious ceremony, the main one with all their guests, was immediately following the legal ceremony.

"Right," the priest said. "The marriage deeds will be ready next Monday, with the wedding Tuesday. The rehearsal will be Monday afternoon. I believe everything is in order."

Cosette gasped, and her eyes grew wide. Everyone looked at her.

"Are you alright?" Valjean asked.

"I'm fine," she said, but still looked very far away. Once the meeting was over, she rushed everyone back into the carriage.

"Why don't we go out to dinner?" Grandfather said.

"Oh, I would just love to," she said, and yawned prettily. "But I'm exhausted."

It was enough to melt the old man's heart. He smiled indulgently at her. "Well, we'll just go home then, dear."

She exchanged meaningful glances with her father and Marius, and as soon as they returned home, she ushered them into the dining room, which was empty.

"I know what we can do!" she said excitedly. "Please, tell me if this will work. I don't know all the rules about laws and papers, but from what I've observed about the legal part of marriage, this should work."

"What is it?"

"Well, remember back in October when we were setting the date for the wedding? We were going have it back in the first week of February, but we couldn't because the church was not available and the church's papers couldn't be drawn up by then. But the papers from the government, well, we signed them a few weeks ago. Everything is ready, under the law."

"And?" Valjean asked, but Marius already seemed to know where she was going.

"We marry tomorrow morning, at the courthouse," he finished. "Is that your idea?"

"Yes!" she said. "Isn't that brilliant?"

"It's perfect," he said. "There's no reason for that not to work, either- we marry in the church next week, as planned. Everything else stays the same, except _technically_ we'll be married and he can't get to you. How did I not think of that?"

"Because I did," she said smugly.

"I think that's the perfect solution," Marius said, appraising. "What do you say, Monsieur?"

"I suppose it will have to work," he said stiffly. "But your grandfather must agree, as her secondary guardian. He must not know why."

"I'll tell him," Marius said. "There's no reason for him to object."

It was decided. They would wake up early and move to the courthouse, where they would be married before noon. If everything went according to plan, Cosette would be safe.

* * *

**Review this, por favor.**


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